


Sing Me A Song Of Me

by LJs_Nuclear_Idiocies



Category: OMORI (Video Game)
Genre: A smidgen of suicidal ideation, AO3 does not like to keep the capitalization on my tags consistent, Basil is not in this one I couldn't really get him in, Depression, Embedded Images, Forgiveness, Gen, General Omori Warnings Apply!!!, Grief, Guilt, Heavy On Symbolism And Interpretative Content, I'm Very Sorry Fellow Basil Enjoyers, Irregular Spacing, Mental Breakdown, Messy Formatting (Intentional), Self-Loathing, This Fic Is Thematically Very Dissonant Sometimes Sorry, hero-centric, music metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJs_Nuclear_Idiocies/pseuds/LJs_Nuclear_Idiocies
Summary: Mari was like music, Hero had decided one day.It didn't feel like a sudden revelation nor like something he’d known all along. Much rather, it was a new, yet simple fact that had become a part of his life, just like that. It wasn't grandiose- it simply added a little to his vision, like he had learnt to see her a little more, a little better.And then, there was heard no more.An exploration of Hero's character after Mari's death and during the events of the game.
Relationships: Hero & Aubrey, Hero & Kel, Hero & Sunny (OMORI), Hero/Mari (OMORI)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Sing Me A Song Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. This is my first serious fic in ages (that isn't just a writing exercise or whatever) and I'm very excited to share it! Playing Omori was a very personal experience to me, and I can heavily relate to Sunny/Omori for a myriad of reasons, and this fic is, in part, the result of my relationship for the game and the story it tells.
> 
> And despite how much I relate to Sunny and his counterpart... this fic ended up being from Hero's POV! He's a character I also enjoyed a lot (...much like the rest of the cast) and he was very comfortable and satisfying to write in this. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't, in good conscience, release a fic from anyone else's POV. I feel like right now, I wouldn't be able to do them and their complexities justice with my writing just yet, haha.
> 
> This fic is largely inspired by two other Omori works: The absolute BANGER of a fic that is [The ocean washed open your grave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802058) by the insanely talented murg and the wonderful and incredibly investing [Headspace Over Time](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145015) series by Blueberry_Muffin_Massacre. If you're familiar with both works, you'll probably be able to point out the influences they (among many others) had on this fic. It's very much a product of the many other Omori works I've read in the process of writing this. If you haven't checked either of these out and enjoyed this fic, I heavily recommend reading both, as they deal with somewhat similar topics and concepts and are just a treat in general!
> 
> By the way, the title and one or two of the lines in this fic are inspired by Mili's song [And Then is Heard No More](https://youtu.be/lclt459JpVQ) that they wrote for Library of Ruina. I used the line "Read me a book of me" as a basis for the title!
> 
> With that being said, I've rambled on for far too long.  
> Let's open the curtains on this little tale, shall we?
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Mari was like music, Hero had decided one day.

It didn't feel like a sudden revelation nor like something he’d known all along. Much rather, it was a new, yet simple fact that had become a part of his life, just like that. It wasn't grandiose- it simply added a little to his vision, like he had learnt to see her a little more, a little better.

Mari was a melody.

Sweet and caring, a beautifully haunting tune that would keep him up at night and yet lull him to sleep all the same. Seemingly perfect, but at the same time, silhouettes of imperfection nestled between the chords of her existence. A living paradox that thrived on its own, incomprehensible existence.

Her bright laughter would be small bursts of allegro, short and cheerful, only lasting for a moment but making memories that lasted forever.

Her teasing words were written in andante, deliberate and still so unbelievably bold- declarations of unconditional love for her friends and family hidden between the jabs and jokes.

Her quiet, gentle comfort was wrapped in adagio, slow but always moving forwards at a steadfast pace, caressing the heart to give it strength once more.

Mari’s voice was a fountain of beautiful compositions, its traces still lingering in the air after all this time.

Sunny, too, was like music. It had taken Hero a longer time to realize, maybe because of how quiet Mari’s younger sibling had always been, but when he found this little piece of wisdom, it had allowed him to see the world differently once more. And it made him happy- knowing that all these little things in his life were irreplaceable aspects of his own world, something he could construct out of what he saw, what he knew, what he loved.

Sunny’s music was quieter than that of Mari’s, but it never dampened the impact of it. If anything, it made those rare few occasions where he spoke or made a noise all the more important. The melodies he made weren't refined at all; they were often nothing more than a single note or chord, but they rang out with a clarity unlike anything else. His moments of joy, grief, anger, peace, love, he all expressed them in a way that was both alien and familiar to him.

Hero hoped that their music would never end, that their symphonies of emotion and memories would play in an eternal concert with Hero, Aubrey, Kel and Basil in the front rows to their greatest performance ever: The miracle of living, the miracle of being here, together, all of them.

Then, one day, the piano stopped playing.

A violin continued, but it, too, slowly screeched to a halt. The bow was still atop the strings, but there never came any noise. It was like the music was there, but no one could make it out, both so distant yet so close.  
  
_And then, there was heard no more._

Four years. Four years of silence. Hero thought the absence of sound would drive him insane, having lived his whole life in a world filled with notes and tones. At first, the numbness he cast onto himself protected him from the worst. It kept the desire to get up, to come to Sunny’s house to see the last remnant of Mari’s life, the last remnant of his _friend_ once more, just to hear a single sound, even if they were shrieks of pain or words of disgust, at bay. He wouldn't have minded being called a monster for it.

It wasn't very far off the truth, anyway.

Only a monster would do nothing to prevent the performance it loved the most from stopping. The others would thank him anyways, eventually.

After all, they, too, hadn't heard a sound in ages.

Then, Hero snapped. It was the first and last time he ever did, and while it was horrible, it was a good wake-up call for him, even if it felt wrong to just move on. His rage had felt righteous, powerful- not a single ounce of him had held back until he finally felt himself grow empty and exhausted. Kel hadn't deserved to be the target of his venom, but he supposed it was collateral. His little brother always bounced right back, no matter what, and always kept trying his best until the very end. Perhaps it had been selfish of him to assume so, but at the end, it was what helped him regain a part of himself, a barrier for him to put between the core of his heart and the immeasurable pain coated in numbness lurking outside. And so, Hero moved on.

Not really, but he liked to act like he did. It set a good example for everyone else. And above all else, he and Mari had always been their role models. The least he could do is continue that work in her name after he had already failed her once, one too many times.

He finishes school and goes to college. The silence is thick, deafening, dizzying, suffocating, but he doesn't care now. It’s become a part of his world, now, too. His day to day life is too busy with work, essays to be written and studying to be done to really focus on how quiet it is anymore. Only when he returns home once in a while does it become a little more prominent again, a gentle feeling of pressure at the back of his head to remind him it still exists.

Then, he sees the lake. Kel. A pink-haired girl. Two dark figures in the water, sinking deeper and deeper.

He dives in without hesitation. After all, the sensation of a mute world under water wasn't that different from his silent life to begin with. What difference does it make, anyway? He reaches out to grab hold of the two people, dragging them back up. Sometimes, he looks back on this moment and wonders what would've happened if things had gone differently. Over time, even more so than the day Mari died. Her death felt almost guaranteed, eventually, an unavoidable clause of fate that was certain in every way. Everything beyond, though, was free game.

And so, Hero wonders.

From time to time again, the scene splits in front of him, shattering into crystalline fragments of possibilities, stretching outward into a vast nothingness. He looks through them with surgical precision, giving each one as much thought as he cares to manage. The outcomes are nearly all identical, only ever going into one or two different directions, but he still goes through them again and again. Perhaps one day, he’d see something different, for once.

He supposes he understands the way Sunny thinks, now. It's far too easy to get lost in worlds that aren't his own, even if they're not dreamlands like the one he shut himself up in.

Not that he’d ever tell him that.

And despite it all, he saves them. Pulls Basil and Sunny out of the water, even if the latter was, in part, responsible for the silence that had enveloped him since that day. But looking at the nearly unconscious boy in his arms, skin pale, body almost nothing but bones, he feels a sudden rush of guilt. It's instinctual, maybe. Or maybe, deep down, he realizes that if he had let Sunny sink further out of spite, his world would be deaf until he dies.

So, when Sunny opens his eyes, hacking and coughing, trying to get the last bits of water out of his lungs, Hero remembers how to hear. The first few chords he hears in four years, and they’re discordant, imperfect, badly paced. But they're _here._ They’ll never be the same as Mari’s, but they’re music nonetheless.

The rest of the day is quiet, but not as quiet as it once was. Every once in a while, sounds ring out, reminding him that he can take it easy for now, even if Sunny is moving away. Just for a little while longer, Hero wants to pretend his life isn't oppressive silence at every waking moment.

Memories of Mari flood back during their time together, ghosts of music whispering their melodies to them as they mend relationships, reminisce about better times and do their best to give Sunny a good farewell. On their final night, as everyone slowly slips into sleep, huddled together in front of the TV, Hero feels a sense of peace. Maybe the world will be mostly silent again, but that's fine. He feels better now, knowing that Sunny had performed one last encore for them, clumsy and sad, but ultimately still caring.

Then he awakens. Late at night, at the same time as Aubrey and Kel. A sound had echoed through the house, twisted and dissonant. From the hallway. Basil’s room. Sunny’s quilt is empty.

Silence settles once more. And as it does, something in Hero’s gut churns so dreadfully, so violently that he shoots up, unable to ignore some primal instinct telling him to run down the hall, bursting into Basil’s room to know the reason for the agonizing song that had played mere moments ago. Kel and Aubrey follow him, their breathing heavy as they open the door, seeing what’s inside.

Oh, how blissfully ignorant he was. He’d seen these things millions of times in comics and movies, right? Even if he wasn’t a big fan of it, it didn't unsettle him all that much. Blood and flesh, it was all so simple. How much worse could it be in reality after he’d seen it so many times on screens and pages before?

 _Much worse,_ turned out to be the answer.

He miraculously suppresses the urge to vomit, some part of him taking mercy on him and flooding him with adrenaline instead, giving him the necessary clarity he needed. He shouts at Kel to get Polly and first aid supplies, and tells Aubrey to call 911. Meanwhile, he assesses the damage as much as he can, his understanding of the human body from college classes finally coming into use. Both of them are barely conscious, but still breathing, horrifying injuries of all kind all over the place. Basil is weakly grasping a pair of gardening shears, Sunny seemingly having fought with only his fists and random objects around the room. He takes the tool- no, _weapon_ , putting it out of reach for either of them by throwing it out of the room. The thought of Aubrey, Kel or Polly stepping on them briefly crosses his mind, but he shrugs it off.

Sunny’s eye is.. (he looks away, for now. A part of him protests, saying that if he wants to be a doctor, he could handle this, _should_ handle this, but he doesn’t listen. This isn’t some random patient, that’s his friend,) Basil’s nose is broken, large gashes and bruises all over their faces and upper bodies. It’s almost impressive how much damage they did just with a pair of shears, some plant pots and their bodies, he absentmindedly remarks as he searches them for any more wounds. He does what he can with his limited supplies for the moment, dragging sheets from the bed and using them to suppress the bleeding in the worst places on their bodies, every moment feeling like a single, torturous hour. Eventually, Polly arrives alongside Kel, first aid kit in hand, nearly dropping it as she sees the scene in front of her. Aubrey rushes in a moment later, telling him that they’re on their way and should be here in a few minutes. Both of his friends still are somewhat in shock, but Hero’s orders from before seem to have snapped them out of it a little. He silently takes the first aid kit from Polly, replacing the bloodied sheets with bandages and cloth.

Somewhere along the line, Aubrey joins him. She patches up the many scratches and treats the bruises with the learned efficiency of someone who’s done this a million times before. Hero doesn't try to think about why she does. Kel comforts Polly, trying his best to get her to move again, just to have direction again, a second person to rely on. Hero can tell as he bandages a particularly nasty scar on Sunny’s forehead. Kel has always needed someone to show him the way, even if he doesn't follow it- he just needs to _know_ that there's something, _someone_ he can rely on.

The whole moment is so awfully quiet, and a part of Hero, one he’s heard ever since Mari’s death, whispers to him, asking if it's his fault, how he hadn't seen the signs, why he hadn’t done anything to prevent it. In the corner of his eyes, he can see crystalline fragments already forming, what-ifs of this fateful night unfolding in all their cruel glory. The worst part isn't the silence anymore. It’s the knowledge that unlike Mari’s death, there were a million things he could've done differently because of how obvious it was.

 _Who leaves_ _someone who’s been a_

_shut-in for f o u r whole years_

_u n s u p e r v i s e d ?_

_**You, apparently.** _

_B a s i l had obviously been doing_

_horribly. The r e d flags_

_were all there, y'know._

_**You’re blind.** _

_They were children and_

_y_

_o_

_u_

_let them_

_h_

_u_

_r_

_t_

_each other._

_**What would Mari say if she knew what you did?** _

you didn’t do anything anything at all yeah nothing you couldn’t have known or could you god you can’t tell anymore why did they do that what were they gonna do if you didn’t come in did basil start it or sunny but why did sunny come into his room why did he have the shears on him what was he planning to do was he gonna hurt sunny was he gonna hurt himself was he gonna hurt someone else was someone going to die toni-

The paramedics arrive, ushering Hero and the rest out of the room. As Sunny and Basil are being carried out, one of them approaches the group. He asks if they know what happened here, and all they can offer are half-hearted shrugs, too tired to articulate proper responses now that the adrenaline and shock is wearing off. He looks them over before turning to Polly and telling her that they should at least come along to get a check-up at the hospital; apparently high stress situations like this can do damage to your body if you’ve got undiagnosed diseases or something. Hero doesn't care enough to listen. The small group wordlessly follows the paramedics into the vehicle, letting the ambulance drive them to the hospital.

The next few hours pass in a blur. They perform a bunch of tests, investigated by tired-looking nurses working the night shift and are then sent into a resting area for them to wait until they get any news. No one dares to speak. They all sit in their chairs, staring at the ceiling, walls, floor, people passing by, anything other than their friends, lest they get the urge to start talking.

After what feels like the whole night (but was less than an hour, to be precise), a doctor approaches them. He doesn't waste time on pleasantries, informing them that while both Sunny and Basil were wounded deeply in some spots, it's nothing that won't heal with enough treatment and care. The first aid they’d performed supposedly stopped the worst of it. Part of Hero doesn't want to believe it, really. It seems more like something they tell the patients’ friends and loved ones so they can feel a little better about what little they did for them. Nonetheless, a majority of the injuries wouldn't scar and there was likely no permanent damage.

Except Sunny’s eye.

If Hero would somehow still ascend to Heaven when he dies despite all his misdeeds that should've taken him to Hell, Mari would surely drag him down there herself. Not that he’d mind it. He deserves it, probably.

Finally, the sleepiness sets in again, the chair feeling surprisingly comfortable; just right for a quick nap. It couldn’t hurt to rest for a while until the situation stabilizes, right? Looking around, he sees the others all in varying states of exhaustion as well, Kel already drifting off the sleep. At the back of his head, Hero remembers that his parents don’t know about tonight's incident. Explaining what had transpired at Basil’s house was going to be a pain, he decides as he lets sleep claim him once more.

* * *

He dreams of a world in black and white, vast and empty. It feels strangely familiar in a way he can't describe- it's like he's _been here before_ , somehow. Maybe he was and simply forgot. Or maybe this was like a déjà-vu, something he thinks he remembers when he never did in the first place. Everything feels quiet (why shouldn't it be), unsettling and lonely, but... comforting at the same time.

Peaceful, is what he settles on. This place feels peaceful, in all its empty, uncaring vastness. Some part of him faintly remembers a fitting word for this world; liminal. It’s the same as abandoned college dorms during the holidays, stairwells without any sound from outside, airports at night. A threshold between two things, a midpoint for two extremes.

It’s almost paradoxical, he thinks as he stands still, taking in the world around him. Everything is so empty, yet it makes him feel so much bigger, like he's taking up more space than he should. Being all alone feels both unnerving and calming.

Everything about this place reminded him of days long gone, somehow. It kind of-

...huh?

Somewhere, in the depths of this infinite space, sound rings out. Not just sound. _Music._

He gets up (had he really been lying down this whole time?), looking frantically for its source. There's just empty space, white nothingness. He begins to dash out into the vast expanse, further and further away from where he woke up. But no amount of running brings him closer, nor does the music get more distant.

It’s a piano, played with a precision and passion he hasn't heard in four years. The song is a memory, still lingering in his head after the years of silence, yet it is coming to life right here, right now.

A violin sets in, a little less practiced and nowhere near as perfect as piano, but it's played with love nonetheless, a nonverbal declaration of feelings long forgotten.

Hero begins to run again. Faster, this time.

The song continues, flowing through the emptiness, filling the white with color and shapes, distant echoes of a childhood, a time when things were happier, bonds not fractured, hearts still unscarred. A time he was a part of, a time he still longs for after all these years.

In the distance, two dots appear. The music grows louder. The song is reaching its climax, and Hero doesn't have to get any closer to tell what it is.

A duet between siblings, both a requiem for someone’s passing and a hymn for their time spent together.

A bittersweet waltz that bids farewell and welcomes home.

Closure.

The performance reaches its final segment, both of them putting in their all to finish it. And as the last few keys are being hit, the last strokes are being made, Hero feels the world around him slowly vanishing. It’s as though his presence was an extension of their final duet- a temporary return home, even if it was for a short time. As he fades, there's a sense of peace somewhere inside him, a calm and warm feeling in his chest.

He’s glad they got to play for their recital.

* * *

Somewhere, a voice pierces ( _more like bludgeons,_ a more lucid part of him thinks,) through the veil of sleepiness, causing him to jolt a little. Instinctively, he rubs his eyes and opens them slightly, only to instantly shut them again the moment a bright white light hits him.

Right. The hospital. Who decided it was a good idea to have this _inhumane_ lighting even in the resting areas for visitors?

He notices the hand-shaped weight on his shoulders. He opens his eyes a bit more slowly, this time, letting them get accustomed to the bright surroundings.

Kel’s in front of him, smiling gently. He must’ve been the one to wake him up. They can visit Basil now, he tells him, jumping up and down as he talks. Hero can’t fight the urge to smile- it’s comforting to see Kel being back to his more hyperactive, friendly self after everything that's happened. Getting up, he finally notices Aubrey and Polly; the former is looking at a pin board littered with posters of all kinds, the latter is currently talking to someone at the help desk. Having noticed that he’s woken up, she gives him a quick smile before going back to the conversation she's in. They’d be visiting Basil without her, Kel informs him. Apparently she’s still trying to get a hold of Basil’s parents.

As his little brother explains, Aubrey approaches them, jabbing her thumb at one of the corridors. Looks like she already knows where his room is. Kel looks at him, expectantly, while Aubrey puts her hands in her pockets, impatiently shifting her weight from one foot to another. Alright. Hero takes a deep breath. Even after everything that happened last night, they could figure something out. This wasn't like Mari, like something that just happened that they had to accept the lifelong consequences for. Whatever caused Sunny and Basil’s fight yesterday was something they could solve, something they could talk it out. They were friends, and friends stick together.

It would be fine.

 _It wouldn’t be fine_ , a part of Hero realizes the moment Sunny steps inside, an oddly determined look on his face. There's no smiles, no relief and no laughter. Deep down, he expected something more cathartic, a shared hug between friends, a fitting conclusion to this chapter of their lives, the deserved applause to the concert Sunny had performed for them once more.

But instead, all they’re met with is a tense silence, and not the kind Hero is so intimately familiar with. It’s a silence he used to hear when Mari would take him to classical concerts, the kind she loved to attend. They’d settle down, the lights would go off, and the murmuring and chatting would cease, everyone’s eyes trained on the stage. The music would be about to begin, yet nothing was being played yet. Everyone would just sit, waiting. Anticipating. Expecting.

And just like the pianists, the flutists, the cellists, the bassists and the violists, Sunny, too, was about to play once more.

**I have to tell you something.**

And oh, what a cruel song it was.

His words were steady, flawlessly played notes, nothing like the clumsy echoes of sound from before. Yet, every last word he spoke turned the world around them redder and redder, darkness seeping through the edges. The tragic sounds of a violin permeated his entire being- it was like something reached deep, deep, deep inside of him, grasping at his heart with shadow claws, dragging out emotions he had so carefully concealed. He could only stand still, watching on as Sunny continued on and on, his breathing growing more labored, the strings his words played trembling as he kept going. His pale fists were balled, his gaze lowered to the floor, body shaking underneath the hospital gown. The darkness was growing, and it showed no sign of stopping.

Every single thing he said felt like nails being driven into him, cold but scorchingly hot. He had to be lying, right? He had to have... _imagined_ that it was his fault, that he _did this_ , that he _took_ Mari from them! That’s right. Yeah, yeah, that’s right. It wasn’t Sunny who did it. It was **something**. Something behind him. It was something that pushed Mari off those stairs. Something that crept up behind Sunny, waiting for the time to strike. It couldn’t have been the boy in front of him, not someone so gentle and quiet.

But despite his insistent denial, Sunny continued on. He was determined to finish this song, even if it cost him everything. The darkness was all around them now, threatening to engulf them all. The only thing stopping it were bands of red, barely containing the mass above and below them. Bit by bit, piece by piece, Sunny choked out each and every chord of his story, his voice beginning to fail him from years of disuse. Despite his anguish, despite his own body going against him, he pushed on. He told them everything.

How he dragged his sister back to bed, hoping that she’d wake up, get better.

How no amount of rest seemed to work, to do anything at all.

How he looked at his hands and shut down, drowning in guilt.

How a voice rang out, giving him the strength to move again.

How he and Basil carried her outside, guided by his idea.

How they got out the jump rope.

_How they **hung** her. _

_How they **desecrated** her after she had already died._

_How they made a lie that **tortured** them for four years. _

_How they **did all of this.**_

Sunny kneeled on the ground, crying harder than Hero had ever seen in his entire life.

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

Like a broken record, Sunny apologized over and over again. Hundreds of apologies flooded the room, crackling like static- meaningless, grey gibberish.

**I’m sorry for being selfish**

**I’m sorry for being awful**

**I’m sorry for what I did**

The static felt all-consuming, the mass of apologies for every single part of Sunny, every single part of his actions growing heavier and heavier with each word he uttered with a broken voice.

It was like he was apologizing for his existence, his very life. That if he hadn't been born, none of this would have happened. That if it would've been _him,_ on the bottom of those stairs, then everything would be alright.

And somehow, somewhere, a part of Hero, in all its spite and rage, _agrees._ Maybe that would have been better, after all.

In the back of his mind, crystalline fragments form once more. Their reflections show a lonely stairwell, the body of a boy at its bottom.

**Please, don't ever forgive me.**

He looks up at them for the first time ever since he’s begun talking. Everything around them had become chaos; red hands, desperate to grab onto something, _anything_ , reach out into nothingness, where black meets static and cascades into a void neither will return from. This was the final destination for something, someone. A point of no return- it was just a question for who.

**I don’t want forgiveness.**

There’s resignation in his eyes, quiet acceptance of everything that would happen to him. He’s still crying, still shaking, still on the ground. But his stare, boring into them, has already embraced the truth and is awaiting the consequences. It’s like he’s already been sentenced to death, handing them the duty of execution.

**I don’t deserve it.**

And it makes Hero terribly aware of the reality around them. They’re not in some dark, endless void, they’re in a hospital room. They aren’t being grabbed by red limbs, latching onto anything solid, they’re standing next to Basil’s bedframe, their hands lingering on the railing. They don’t hear static and violin strings, just the slight buzz of the lights above.

And in front of them isn’t some cruel _something_ , but their friend.

Hero feels disoriented. It’s like someone blindfolded him and spun him around, but he hasn’t moved at all. He doesn’t know how to feel anymore. There’s- There’s so many emotions at once. It… it feels like he’s about to burst at the seams, and he doesn’t know for how much longer he can hold this tidal wave of feelings in. At that very moment, Kel starts crying. His brother has always rarely cried for real, only doing so when he’s seriously upset. Even when they were faced with the scene inside of Basil’s bedroom, Kel hadn’t even shed a single tear. And yet, here they were. His younger brother takes a step forward, and Sunny looks like he’s about to flinch, but stops himself. He’s waiting, expecting Kel to pass judgment.

Then Kel rushes at Sunny, clinging onto him as he starts sobbing. Of course, some part of Hero thinks, almost bitterly. His little brother believes in the goodness of every person, regardless of what they did. He’s almost jealous of his brother’s ability to put his own feelings aside like that for the sake of other people.

The surprise on Sunny’s face is palpable, his eyes no longer resigned like before. He hadn’t expected this when he came into this room, and neither did Hero.

His gaze is torn from the scene when he notices movement at his side. It’s Aubrey, shaking, barely holding back tears. Sunny looks at her, too, and the sentiment his stare conveys is clear to the both of them. Yet, she lurches forward as well, grabbing the boy by the shoulders and shaking him as she begins to cry too. She yells in incomprehensible, broken sentences, trying to make sense of the situation but unable to tell them what she feels. Eventually, her voice breaks and she slumps against Sunny. Hero doesn’t feel like he’s there, like he’s really here in this moment, this place. He feels like an observer to his friends’ struggle, just watching on as his own emotions bubble and boil with no way to go down but deeper inside of himself.

He fears that if he even as much as moves a single finger, he’ll lose this feeling of distance, the only thing keeping him from breaking down altogether.

Then, Sunny stares at him, too.

He knows how much Mari had meant to Hero. To all of them. Sunny knows this. Sunny knows of the gentle teasing and joking declarations of love between them. Sunny knows of their real feelings, their hopes for a better future together. Sunny knows of the anguish Hero had gone through, the suffocating silence he’s had to endure since then. The guilt, the blame. The thought that he had simply been unable to save Mari, some cruel guarantee that he wasn’t good enough to help anyone. The relief of knowing that it wasn’t his fault any longer, but someone else’s. The rage of being lied to, the betrayal of trust between what should’ve been best friends. The shock, the disbelief and then the rage of learning what Sunny had done to Mari. Sunny knows all of this, and he’s waiting for Hero to do something, _anything._

But Hero doesn’t know what to do.

Hero doesn’t know, and it scares him.

His feelings are at war, and it feels like there won’t be a winner for all eternity. How is he supposed to do anything if he can’t even decide how to feel?

It’d be so easy to give into hatred, wishing death and worse upon Sunny for the rest of his life. The poisonous idea already festers at the back of his mind, and though he tries his best to push it back, he knows it's there. And for as long as he’ll live, it’ll remain somewhere inside of him, black sludge rotting his heart.

Does he want to hold onto this venom until he dies?

He could forgive Sunny, let bygones be bygones, but is this really it? Just… forgiving him for everything he’s put him through? Forsaking the years of blame and suffering? Not just him, but everyone else has been through so much, and the thought of just accepting that so much of it was for nothing… it opens a pit in his stomach, vast and endlessly deep.

Does he want to forget the reason for his agony?

Hero doesn’t know anymore.

And so, he stares. Back at Sunny, locked into an endless contest, a childish game of who will look away first.

Hero wins.

**I told you.**

**Don’t forgive me.**

His friend’s sobs fade out, the buzzing of the electric lights do the same.

It's quiet. As always.

It's just him and Sunny now, the latter emptily looking at the ground. He's tired of waiting, of pretending to care for Hero’s judgment.

**Please just get it over with.**

**If you want me to die, that’s fine, too.**

**I get it.**

**You hate me for what I’ve done.**

**I hate me for it too.**

**So, please…**

**Do what you have to.**

“Well, that's not really your choice to make, is it?”

Hero’s voice sounds unfamiliar to him, like he hasn't spoken in years. His throat feels prickly and sore with phantom pains of disuse, the same way he imagined Sunny would feel when he spoke to them again.

Yet, it's oddly… freeing. They're the first words he's uttered since they entered the hospital, but it feels like they're the first thing he's really, truly _said_ since everything turned silent, including himself.

_If you can't hear your own voice, you can never be certain of what you said._

_You’ll never know if the words your message carried will ever truly reach the other person’s heart, gifting the feelings they were intended to bring._

_If you can't hear yourself at all, how can you know that the person who's talking is even you?_

For the first time in four years, Henry doesn't feel like he's living in a world devoid of sound. And for the first time in four years, he lets himself be _him,_ in his entirety.

He knows what to do.

Memories of a white expanse, a piano and a violin, playing in unison resurface; a last duet that was doubtlessly played for the sake of closure.

Though he was never as good at music as Mari, he, too, can play one last song.

For Sunny.

For Basil.

For Aubrey.

For Kel.

For himself.

For Mari.

“Forgiveness is a hard thing,” he begins, the words turning to black and white keys, playing a slow tune in quiet pianissimo, “And it's even harder for something like this.”

Sunny seems genuinely confused- he can tell that he expected Hero to fly into a rage, to break down and let the emotions boiling inside of him finally take over.

But Henry doesn't do that. He pours every single feeling into every note he plays with his words, a performance that Mari could’ve been proud of.

“We want to think in black and white, like it's all so easy to decide who does good and bad things. But in reality, it's far more than that.” Slowly but surely, the sound swells into a steady forte. “When all of this happened, you and Basil were kids. What you did was awful. It was horrible and it's gonna stick with you for a long time. It will with all of us.”

A tone, growing with a crescendo. “But I _understand._ It's awful and it's terrifying, but I _understand._ I wish I could've been there for you, but I wasn't able to. You and I both shut ourselves away. We closed ourselves off when we needed someone the most. You… you were suffering a lot too, weren't you?”

It's a dumb question, but he knows that he has to put it out there, a necessary measure to his composition. Sunny, like all of them, had lost Mari. His _sister._ The sister he had loved so dearly, no matter what. Whatever he had gone through, Hero isn’t sure if he could fathom its extent.

Sunny is crying again, harder now. He's still holding onto Aubrey and Kel, gripping them as if they are his final lifeline.

“I don't know if I have it in me to fully forgive you, to accept all of… _this,_ but I _want to try._ I want to try for my sake. For your sake. For Mari’s sake.”

With fortissimo halling through the room, the song reaches its final part.

“Sunny… this is-” for a brief moment, his voice fails him as his vision gets blurry.

Ah. Tears.

“I want- I want to do what Mari would have wanted for us. You guys are- you’re family to me, and I can't lose you again. I don’t want to,” he speaks through sobs and hiccups. He's probably making a mess of himself, some part of him comments, but he shoves it aside, wiping his face and sniffling a little.

He has a song to finish.

“What happened that day was an accident. It was an accident that’ll cost us forever, but I know you didn't want to kill her. You made a mistake. And I want to forgive you for it, even if I can’t.”

And, with one last line, his song reaches its conclusion.

“You're not a murderer. You’re my friend.”

The remnants of his music echo through the hospital, a tune unheard of by anyone but the ones in this very room.

Maybe they’ll reach Mari too, wherever she is.

Through his blurred vision, he can see Sunny getting up from the floor, Kel and Aubrey following suit. Had they listened to his song, too?

His pondering is interrupted when he sees Sunny approaching him, with the other two closely behind. He wants to take a step back to give them space, but a pair of pale, weak arms carefully wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. Soon, another pair joins, and then, another becomes a part of the hug as well.

It’s only then, in the midst of his friends’ arms, protected by their embrace, that Henry allows himself to crumble.

He pulls them closer, and together, they hold onto each other, a silent promise to never let go of each other ever again.

Mari was like music, Henry had decided one day.

Maybe she was gone now, but the melodies she had played were engraved on their hearts forever.

Even if the world may seem empty and silent, Henry knows better.

The gentle sound of a piano fills the air.

_“Thank you for being born.”_

**Author's Note:**

> **Congratulations, you've made it to the end!**
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this little piece of writing. I truly love the story that is Omori, and I hope I was able to convey that with this fic.
> 
> Because of how personal it was to me, a lot of my more... usual writing habits bled into this work, like the heavy use of visual/auditory themes or special formatting to show characters' state of mind or creating certain kinds of atmospheres.  
> You could maybe tell that the hospital scene featuring Sunny "playing" a violin and the room turning into this nightmarish world is supposed to reflect the final boss battle against Omori or that the sheet music in Hero's dream are the first few notes of the Final Duet! 
> 
> As for what actually _happens_ in some of these more... bizarre scenes can be left up to your personal interpretation- I make it a big point in my writing to have people form their own ideas about what the story is telling, and Omori does this to a great deal as well, so it felt natural to do the same here.  
> Whether Hero sees crystal fragments, red hands or static and hears Sunny's words as violin strokes and his own and Mari's as piano notes or it's just me being overly metaphorical is entirely up to how you want to see these scenes. 
> 
> The same applies to the final line, by the way. Who said it and who are they talking about? No idea! _You tell me. :)_
> 
> There's a lot more I have to say about the symbolism and themes I used in this fic, and while some is pretty obvious and some would probably need a bit of context from my end, I'm afraid that I would make these end notes insanely large if I did, so this will have to suffice! 
> 
> This fic was a challenge to myself to see if I could still write; not just something I hastily create when I have bursts of productive energy, but a genuine process where I consistently revised my fic over and over again with the goal of making something much more refined than just a short writing exercise or a glorified draft. And while I have my issues with this piece (which is natural, I guess), I can confidently say that I'm pretty proud of what I've made! 
> 
> If you have any criticism or ideas you want to share with me, please do so in the comments- it's always super interesting to hear what others have to say, and every single kudo, comment or bookmark is greatly appreciated. I want to continue writing Omori fics if I'm able to (maybe something Basil-focused since the poor boy got kind of left out this time...), so any input on how I could do better or an idea I could use in future fics would be super valuable to me. 
> 
> But! I've once again been rambling for quite some time now, so I'd say that's the end of that.
> 
> Once again, I hope you've enjoyed! Thanks for reading, and have a great day/evening.
> 
> And one last thing: Even if this fic's final line is said from one character to another, it's also a message to all of you, too. It may seem silly, but every single reader who decided to click on this fic is worth so much to me that I can't put it into words.
> 
> Thanks for being born.
> 
> See ya around!


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